Bulma…
by Fleur
Summary: Vegeta's point of view on Bulma as he leaves the second time from earth. It is the sequal to Vegeta...


Bulma… ****

Bulma…

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It seems like you all liked my other story in Bulma's point of view and wanted another in Vegeta's. Well here it is, I hope you like it just as much. Oh yeah, I don't own DBZ, please dun sue. Lol ^_^

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I've never been so alone and I've never been so loved. Even though you're near me, so close I can feel your heat radiating off of you, touching me so softly like an angel's feather, I feel like I'm about to die. And though you wrap me in some light that is unseen to such a killer like I, I've never been so alone. Bulma… My hands have been smeared by blood of too many innocent deaths and yet I seem to yearn and feast at such a hellish act I can't help but feel sick to my stomach as an angel like yourself allows me to touch you in such a manner. To love you in such a way that makes others jealous and to stare into my eyes with such easy understanding even though you can't even comprehend what goes on behind such empty slates. And I wonder each time you look at me if perhaps you find disgust in my stature—if at each site you glimpse at me makes you want to turn your face around in horror. I'm a monster… I know I am, and my demeanor, my posture, my existence, is it that bad? Has the pain even faded yet? Bulma… I wonder many days and many nights as I force my body into hard work outs hours and days and months at a time, I wonder if someday you might love who I am and accept me for who I am. I can't be anything or anyone else than who I am already. I can't change or be some saint because I've already spilled too much blood and pained too many hearts. What more is there to say, I'm sorry.

I run and I know I do. I'm such a weakling even though I always say I'm strong. Tell me, why am I not strong? Why is that lower class… Why is he stronger than me?! And it makes me so sick to think that one as myself has been defeated countless times by such a weak warrior and I am always too late to understand that I am the weaker one. I continuously get trampled each time I reach some new plateau and you… Bulma… You have killed me countless times. What is it that I don't seem to understand and comprehend about love? What is it that you yearn for deep into the nights when you shiver so close against my body and pull yourself over me like a goddess kissing me with such passion that it makes my head spin… I kiss back—Each time I do; and time after time you win. What is it that you do, your eyes burning with such a flame of desire that my eyes merely reflect such a passion? Why do I not have that passion? Why do I not understand this feeling I get each time I come in contact with you? Is that in some sense you are much stronger, much wiser than I? Is it that there is some hurdle I have yet to leap over? Bulma… I have yet to accept these feelings I have for you. I have yet to acknowledge that you have beaten me into a mound of mush that you can manipulate by the turn of your head. You make me go wild… I can't stand it, how you make me feel, you, as a mere distraction to my final goal. WOMAN! Do you realize how you toss me in such a blizzard of confusion that I should be branded legally blind in such a position? And yet… I can't see how you allow me to hold you even if it is against every law in love. You allow me to love you even though I don't even know how to define such a word.

Bulma… I'm still in shock, even disbelief, about how you feel for me. I can barely concentrate on mere exercise tasks with you haunting my mind, filling it with images and dreams that I have yet to accomplish. I wonder how you could love me, admit even into the morning or upon the arrival of dusk. Disbelief a mere factor in such awe I feel as you murmur half asleep admitting feelings I never knew could exist. Bulma… Do you, did you question our encounters as a distraction to… failure? To my incessant ignorance to my final demise? Please believe me—even as my mouth is full of lies and curses—believe what you felt, what I felt, what we did, it was not for distraction. What one may think as fun I disbelieve. Bulma… You're mine. You're what I believe I cannot have, a treasure forever hidden, out of reach, sunken beneath such depths of blue. And I weep. Though literally I never cry, tears burning along my sides, so invisible to the naked eye, more than anyone could dream and my heart bleeds with sorrow and hurt I know I've caused, I weep. I'm sure your scared, frightened, confused. Did I hurt you again? Break your heart for being not the man you hoped I could be? Were you even surprised to turn your face to the side of your bed finding nothing but a devilish cold empty spot in replace for a man that is so misunderstood? And yet all I can do is apologize for crimes I continue to commit, each time I look away. I left… Not because of you, or our child, our confusion, not for any of these things that seem so apparent. I left because I must and I'll return because I can. And though I beg for you to erase me from your mind, I cannot erase you from my own. I hope, a simple wish, that you'll accept me for who I return to be, and allow me back in your arms, bed, soul, mind. Bulma… There are things I want to say but will never be heard. Forgive me for my sudden leave… Forgive me for all you grieve because in all honesty, I love you. Even though I've yet to learn what this truly means, I love you. Bulma… I am yours.


End file.
